A Song and a Good Thought
by youcrashedthemode
Summary: My first fanfic. Based off of a headcanon.


**Hi, guys! Well, I'm new to this stuff, and this is my first fanfic. It's based off of a headcanon from .com. You should really check it out. Here's the headcanon. **

**144. Mal always gets talked to, and always talks to everyone else. That is simply the nature of his job. But no one ever really involves him. Being more of an operator and not so much of an in-the-thick-of-it member coupled with the fact that Bumblebee is losing time for him between the team and school, Mal has felt a bit depressed lately. Often times, he goes home and plays his horn, fantasizing about a career as a late night Jazz musician. He's already got a stage name worked out- "Herald"**

** I wanted to focus on a character who we didn't know well on Young Justice, and kind of give them a little story. This is my first fanfic and I know it won't be good as some of the ones I read before, but I hope you like it! **

_"Help! Somebody-anybody- get me out of here!" Mal screamed. He was being held hostage by Deathstroke, kept in a large pod dangling from the ceiling, twenty feet in the air. The Team was there, but had their hands easily filled with Deathstroke's robots and accomplices. Mal banged his fists against the glass of the pod and screamed even louder. _

_ "Help! Please! I need to get out of here!" Mal yelled. His face flushed with anger and frustration. _

_"There's no use screaming, Mal." It was a calm voice, belonging to a man. It was coming from what sounded like a speaker within the pod. _

"Who are you? What do you want? Let me out of here!" Mal demanded.

_"That's not important right now. But what _is _important is the fact that not only will your friends fail at saving you- if they even _try _saving you- but that you will make an _excellent _example of what happens when you try to get in my way." the voice responded._

Deathstroke,_ Mal thought. " What makes you think they won't save me? And there's no doubt the Team will win!" Mal said, a bit skeptical. He watches his friends battle from his pod. Alpha squad are fighting the worst of the robots, Beta fighting Psimon, Devastation, Icicle Jr., and Shimmer, while Gamma tried to free the remaining captured kids from the pods. _

_Deathstroke chuckled. "Why would they waste time saving _you_? You're nothing but their operator. You don't have any superpowers or skills. You're replaceable. In fact, I don't even know why I have you as a hostage. I can just kill you off right now and the message will be clear; you get in my way, then you'll have to face the consequences. Cut down the wire!" Deathstroke orders. _

_"No wait! I-" Mal starts. But it's too late. Someone has cut the wire. Mal screams to the top of his lungs, his voice getting hoarse, as he crashes to the ground. _

Mal wakes up, gasping mouthfuls of air, as if they're his last ones. His clothes stick to his body, damp from a cold sweat. He sits up in his bed, trying to catch his breath, calm his nerves. His lips are chapped and his throat is raw from screaming in his sleep. He can hear his heartbeat in the hot, still darkness of the one bedroom apartment he shares with Karen. But Karen's out on a mission in Bialya. He checks the time. 2:30 in the morning.

After he's calmed down, he changes into a pair of sweats and heads to the fridge for a water bottle. He sits at the kitchen table to collect his thoughts.

_It's the same dream, every time. _He thinks. He sighs. _It doesn't look like I'll be getting any more sleep tonight. _Mal's eyes land on the soft black case that sits at the foot of his denim couch. _I guess I can play a song or two. A song and a good thought always works. _He thought with a smile. "If I can find somewhere to play." Mal says out loud, rolling his eyes. Last time he woke up this early and decided to play his horn, he received complaints from all of his neighbors and almost got kicked out of the building.

Mal's eyes widen. _I know where I'll go._

Mal puts on his grey hoodie, takes his horn, and goes down the three flights of stair to his 2008 red Nissan Sentra. He places the case in the back seat of his car. He takes the driver's seat and turns the key in the ignition, pushes the gas pedal, and he's on his way.

_ The team cares about me, right? They wouldn't let me die, would they? No. The team would _definitely _save me if I needed it. Right? _ Mal scoffs. _Of course not. I'm not _really _part of the team. I'm just the operator. They get to do all the missions, and be close friends and… I'm just there. My _girlfriend _doesn't even have enough time for me. _

As soon as Mal reaches his destination, he parks the car. He gets out of the driver's seat, retrieves his black case from the back seat, and closes the door. He looks up, and smiles. _No one will hear me from the water tower. _

Mal begins to climb the ladder leading to the top of the water tower, one hand firmly grasping the cool metal, the other looped through the fabric handles of his case. As he climbs higher, he almost slips off, but manages to catch himself and keep going. He doesn't look down, because if he does, he is certain he'd fall. As soon as he reaches the top, he puts his case down, and stares at the unbelievably breathtaking view he has. You can see the whole city with their bright flashing lights from the top of the water tower, but if you look up, you can see the moon and the stars' pale light. Mal loved it. After he's finished gazing at the view, he takes his case and opens it.

The moonlight made the brass horn shine. The horn was mostly a golden yellow like most horns, but the edges of the bell were browned from years of playing and handling. It had three buttons, each marked with a signature. The only thing new about the horn was the silver mouthpiece. Mal ran his fingers through the engraving on the horn: DUNCAN.

This horn was passed down to him from his father, and to his father from _his _father. The horn's buttons had signatures from all three of them. When Mal has kids, he'll pass this down to _his _son or daughter. His face beams at the thought. Mal sighs happily._ A song and a good thought._ Mal pulls the hood over his head. He puts the mouthpiece on the horn, put his mouth on the mouthpiece, and begins to play, the music pouring out of him and into the quiet night.

Mal plays so expertly, not a single mistake made. His fingers flow between the buttons, and he gleams when he has a solo. Although he has a beautiful view, sometimes Mal closes his eyes because the music takes him to a farther place than the water tower. Mal loves to play his horn. He learned at an early age, and it stuck with him since. It helps him relieve stress and express himself. Those few minutes that he plays the horn make all the difference for him because at that moment he's not just an operator for the team or some guy whose girlfriend is too busy for him. He's Mal Duncan: Jazz Musician.

After he's played all he can at three in the morning, Mal begins to put away his horn. He takes off the mouthpiece, cleans out all the spit with a pipe cleaner, and puts it back in the case. He then takes a white linen cloth and begins to clean the horn itself inside and out.

Suddenly, he hears someone climbing up the ladder. He grabs his horn, prepared to use it as a weapon. He stands in a battle stance.

"Who are you and what do you want?" He demands, reminiscent of his dream. But then he sees a familiar pair of shocking blue eyes and jet black hair. Mal relaxes his stance.

"Oh. Hi, Conner." Mal said with a smile to his old friend. He commences to put away his horn. "How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't. I heard trumpet playing from the cave and I wanted to see what it was. I guess it was you, Mal." Conner said.

"Yeah. I kind of play the horn." Mal said sheepishly. He doesn't really tell many people his talent. Mal leans over the rail of the watch tower.

"You're great. But do you mind if I ask why you're playing the horn on top of a water tower at three in the morning?" Conner asks.

Mal laughs lightly. "I just had a bad dream. I knew I wasn't going to get anymore sleep tonight, so I came up here so I can play without bothering anyone." Mal explained timidly.

"I see. So this helps you sleep?" Conner asks.

"Yeah. My father used to put me to sleep with a song and a good thought, and I guess the routine stuck with me. But it doesn't only help me sleep. It helps me clear my mind too. And it makes me feel better." He describes.

Conner smiled. "A song and a good thought. I like that." Conner said. "So," he continued, "what was your dream about?"

Mal turned to face Conner. He was not sure if he wanted to tell him about his dream. He did not know how Conner would react to it. Mal rolls it over in his mind for a while like he'd turn over a stone in his hand.

" I.. I don't think you want to know, Con." Mal finally replies.

"Oh? And why not?" Conner says, slightly concerned.

"It's just… it's kind of… I don't know. I don't know how you'll take it." Mal admits.

Conner quickly dismisses this with a wave of a hand. "I know I'm a hot head, but you can tell me _anything. _We're friends, aren't we?" Conner insists.

"_Duh. _Are you _sure _you want to know?" Mal says.

"Of course." Conner says.

"Well… I, erm, had this dream.. that the team was fighting Deathstroke and his allies. I was being held hostage by Deathstroke. I was in a pod, being held twenty feet above the air. I couldn't escape, no one could hear me. Deathstroke talked to me through a speaker in the pod, and he told me that if I wasn't saved, he'd kill me." Mal said with a shaky voice.

"Alright.." Conner said.

"And, um…" he continued, "He kept saying I wasn't important enough to the team to be saved. So, he cut the wire, I was falling to my death, and then I woke up." Mal finished.

Conner looks thoughtful. He takes some time with his answer. Finally, he responded to Mal.

"So, no one saved you?" Conner asked.

Mal shakes his head. "I don't think so." Conner couldn't believe it.

"Why didn't anyone save you? You're our friend, too. Someone _had _to have saved you." Conner said, unable to believe it, even though it was not real.

"Its okay, Conner. It was just a dream. I'm really not _that _important to the team." Mal stated.

Conner look at him in disbelief. "How can you _say _that, Mal? You're just as important as me or any other of us." Conner exclaimed.

Mal dismissed this. " _Please. _All you guys have a special bond, and I'm just the operator! If I died, I can be replaced in a day! No one can replace Wondergirl, Superboy or any of you guys! So, no. I'm _not _as important as you guys." Mal declared. His words hung in the air heavily. Conner did say anything for a long time, but just stared at Mal.

Conner was heading down the ladder. He stopped. "Believe what you want, Mal. Just know you're underrating yourself _greatly_. No one can replace Mal Duncan as a person, a friend, or anything." Conner said.

Mal grinned. "Thanks, Con."

"Oh, and one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"You would be pretty good superhero." Conner suggested. Mal smiled. And with that, Conner climbed down the ladder, got on Sphere, and went back to the cave.

_Maybe I _do _matter. _

Another hot night, the same bad dream, another night Mal abruptly wakes up gulping air and changing clothes. Another night of going up to the water tower to play the horn. Except Karen is lying next to him, blissfully asleep, so his routine is slowed and quieted. Hoodie pulled on, he sneaks out of the apartment without a word, on his way to the water tower.

When he gets to the top of the tower, he is shocked to see Karen, sitting on the edge, head resting on her arms, legs dangling of the side of the water tower, staring at the view in her pajamas.

"Karen?" Mal says in disbelief. "How'd you- " Karen pulls her legs from the side of the tower, stands up, and walks toward Mal.

"I'm your _girlfriend, _Mal. I find these things out." Karen said, smiling. "We never have time for each other, but _right now _we do. We should make the best." she said.

Mal smiled. He's been doing that a lot lately. He grabbed Karen's waist, pulled her in close, and gave her a passionate kiss.

_ I got my good thought, I just need my song. _Mal thought.


End file.
